


Tooth and Nail

by Neyiea



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9094633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Robbie often thinks about leaving marks on Sportacus, but Sportacus ends up being the one leaving marks on Robbie. And then immediately fretting about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My life has been taken over by this fandom, I love ya'll so much.

Sportacus is not able to stop by Robbie’s lair very often; he has responsibilities to the town and Robbie isn’t especially eager to let anyone know about their recent change of relationship, so the elf visits for a couple hours at most once per week in an effort to keep anyone from catching on. 

Sportacus does mention, every once in a while, with his big blue eyes turned on at full power, that if their relationship were public then he could visit more often.

Robbie doesn’t want to admit it, but the idea is kind of growing on him. Especially on nights like tonight, where he’d been feeling abysmally alone before the sound of Sportacus opening up the hatch to his bunker filled him with an emotion not unlike joy. He’d stood up to greet Sportacus, arms already open for the hug that he knew would be bestowed upon him as soon as Sportacus caught sight of him. The rest of the night progresses as it usually has over the past few months.

Sportacus is almost always the one who initiates their kisses. He likes to press his lips against Robbie's cheeks first, then the corners of his mouth, then his mouth will just barely brush against Robbie's own before he pulls a hair's breadth away, eyes half closed as he waits for reciprocation with a smile.

He never has to wait long.

Sometimes Robbie tries to go slowly, because Sportacus can become so flushed from kissing alone. There's an unquestionable thrill in knowing that he's the cause, and he likes to savor the experience and the sight of it as often as he can. He just can't find it in himself to go slowly tonight, though, not when it feels like it's been an eternity since he'd last been able to lay his undivided attention upon him.

His kisses are firm, his hands drawing lines up and down Sportacus’s back as Sportacus takes the initiative to begin slowly guiding them towards the orange recliner, one small step at a time. Sportacus's hands grasp the edge of his waistcoat, tugging impatiently, and Robbie shifts back for a second to take it off and Sportacus does the same with his vest and shirt. 

Seeing that bare expanse of skin, smooth and firm, always makes Robbie want to lean in and leave marks, like his own personal way of telling any misguided soul who thought that they could make a move on Sportacus that he was already spoken for. He never acts on it though, too worried that any discolourations would be seen by curious but naive children, or even worse, by knowing and judgmental adults.

Maybe someday he’ll be too tempted to care about the consequences, but for now he can only assume that the cons would outweigh the pros.

They finally make it to Robbie’s recliner and they sit down, close enough that they’re practically in each other’s laps. Sportacus wraps his arms around Robbie’s waist, grips the back of Robbie’s shirt, and pulls it off in one smooth motion.

Sportacus loves having all the skin-to-skin contact he can get. He draws his lips against Robbie’s collar-bones while his fingers trace out love-notes at his waist and Robbie shudders against him, still not completely used to the sensation of soft touches against his bare skin. Sportacus whispers sweet nothings against his sternum as Robbie makes a move to unbuckle Sportacus’s belt.

Sportacus pauses, just for a moment, so that he can pull back and give Robbie a questioning look.

“What?” Robbie doesn’t let his hands still, sliding the belt through the loops of Sportacus’s pants and letting it fall to the area rug with a soft thud. “I can take initiative too, you know. Unless—unless you don’t want me to.”

“Robbie,” Sportacus says fondly, pressing his lips against Robbie’s chin, then to the corners of his eyes, “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re not forcing yourself to do something that you’re not ready for.”

“When do I ever do anything that I don’t want to do?” Robbie lightly butts their foreheads together. “Besides, I’m curious.”

“I’m not sure if curiosity is the greatest—“ Sportacus breaks himself off with an interesting noise as Robbie slips his hand inside the other’s pants.

It’s different from touching himself, better, though, especially when Sportacus’s hands move to his back. His nails are short and blunt but he digs them in slightly, probably without realizing it, before dragging them down Robbie's spine. The rasping sensation is far more strange than it is painful considering that Sportacus's usual displays of affection are soft and sweet, definitely not the sort of thing that would leave a mark. But these are Sportacus's nails scratching against him, probably leaving soft pink tracks in their wake, and Robbie likes it, likes the thought of Sportacus leaving marks. He might like it even more than the thought of himself giving Sportacus love-bites on every free patch of skin. 

He kisses and laves his tongue against Sportacus’s shoulder, delighting in the way Sportacus's fingers dig deeper, like he desperately wants to pull Robbie even closer to him, until nothing could tear them apart. The paths being traced along his spine start to sting, just a little, not nearly enough that he wants it to stop any time soon.

Sportacus shudders against him and tucks his face into the crook of Robbie’s neck. Eventually his hands, and everything else, go still. He leans right up against Robbie, so that they’re chest to chest, and he’s trying to collect his thoughts when he glances down over Robbie’s shoulder and catches sight of the streaks he’d left behind.

"Oh my gosh, your back!" He abruptly leans away and Robbie watches, stunned, as he stands up and moves behind Robbie to get a better look. 

"What about it?"

"What about—Robbie, are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn't realize I was scratching you so hard."

"Hey, it's fine," Robbie assures him, making an effort to sound less gruff than usual so that Sportacus can tell he's sincere. It doesn't appear to help much, since Sportacus all but jogs to the bathroom.

"You have ointment in your medicine cabinet, right? Or at least some hydrogen peroxide?"

"I already told you, it's fine. It doesn’t even hurt."

Sportacus peers at him from just beyond the doorway, a worried frown firmly in place. "Do you know how much bacteria can grow under nails? It's not clean, Robbie."

Clearly he isn't going to be able to change Sportacus’s mind.

"There should be peroxide near the bandaids."

Sportacus returns to his side moments later, ready to dutifully step into the role of nurse despite his overall rumpled state of undress. The peroxide doesn’t hurt much, it’s not as if Sportacus had gouged at his back like a wild cat after all. The whole experience just leaves Robbie feeling more amused than anything and he wonders vaguely if Sportacus would act the same way if it had been Robbie leaving little marks behind on him.

He glances back at Sportacus, curiosity welling up within him.

Maybe, just maybe, the next time they’re together he’ll skim his teeth along Sportacus’s skin and suck blood to the surface, just to see what his reaction will be.

But for now he’s content to let Sportacus continue to fuss over him.


End file.
